


Pumpkin Patch

by Aithilin



Series: Seasonal Prompts [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Autumn, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 15:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21000278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Sometimes the selection in the pumpkin patch is just too big.





	Pumpkin Patch

“It doesn’t need to be perfect, Specs.”

“I’m not looking for it to be perfect, Highness.”

The farms within the walls of Insomnia held the harvest markets every year. The fields, cleared of the crops that had been tended to for the rest of the year, had been overtaken with lines of market stalls and games. Wagons rattled along soil paths, pulled by colourful chocobos on tours of the fields, the market sights, the decorations and attractions built up for the event. Petting zoos came lined with advertisements for chocobo races and games, the birds preening under the adorations of the visitors coming close with tantalizing treats from the market stalls. 

The city seemed almost distant when they stood among the fields of pumpkins and gourds, seasonal vegetables and fruits set out on a barrier made of stacked hay bales. A lumbering garula herd from the adjoined field prodded at their fence for the barrier of tempting hay and displayed treats, the matriarchal garulessa reaching across with her gentle bulk to steal pumpkins within reach and overturn baskets and bushels of plums and apples.

And Ignis knelt among it all, inspecting the pumpkins offered from the little patch. Vines had already been cut and cleared, a sandwich board sign at the gated entrance listing the prices for the sizes in cute cartoon drawings. A small army of farmhands with belts stocked with change happily helping people to cars with the larger pumpkins or finding bags for the smaller prizes. Most families were in an out within moments, their autumnal prize weighed and measured and carried off with plans for painted faces and roasted seeds filling the air around them. 

In and out and back to the market stalls for caramel apples and bags of sweets. 

But not Ignis. 

“Are you sure about that?” Noctis had a small pumpkin in his hands. Small and round and a vivid orange that he had picked up because it caught his eye within the thirty seconds he had planned for this whole matter. “Because all of those look fine to me.”

“Yes, well, for painting perhaps.”

“And you are looking for…?”

“Pie.”

“Iggy, seriously, they sell pie here.”

“It’s not the same, Noct.” Another pumpkin was deemed unfit; “And the seeds collected during the process really are suitable for a nice treat later. It’s really a versatile product for the season.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes.”

“Just a few more, darling. I’m sure this pile has what I’m looking for.”

“You do know that there’s an entire stall of the pumpkins you’re looking for, and the pies, and the roasted seeds?”

“As I said,” another perfectly acceptable pumpkin was cast aside for some unseen flaw revealed by Ignis’ diligent tapping and testing and trained eye; “It’s not the same.”

Noctis side and watched as a few more reasonably sized, bright orange pumpkins were rejected. Only to be snatched up by wandering families in search of decorations. He looked down at the small thing in his hands— it wasn’t oddly shaped or discoloured, he thought. It was about the size of his favourite mug, a vivid hue, a pleasantly curved stem that wasn’t too prickly to the touch. He examined it for the flaws that Ignis seemed to be finding in similar vegetables by the dozen. There was a small scar here and there, a little bit of a flattened side he supposed came from how it had grown. But the sides were otherwise smooth, and he was sure it would sit just fine on his table if he propped it up. 

He grumbled as he realized what he was doing and glared at Ignis; “Right, you keep looking. I’m getting this one, and then I’m checking out the chocobos.”

“Noctis—”

“Nope, you got five seconds if you’re coming with me.” He turned to the waiting, smiling farmhands still serving families that had been in the pumpkin patch for less that half the time Noctis had stood there. He grabbed another, smaller pumpkin on his way— one of the ridged, tiny things that seemed misshapen when placed among the rest. The farmhand smiled brightly to him as he refused his change, asking it to be used for the next child to come through the line behind him. 

He started toward the chocobo paddock, where the birds were sunning themselves in the autumn afternoon light. The race track was set around and through a grove of trees, with a jump that would take the riders over a passing wagon and through the docile herd of garula. They would pass over bales of hay and though blazing coloured leaves, fallen logs and an overturned carriage for obstacles. Noctis could see the preparations being made, as greens were being tied to strings between the trees and set on balloons to mark the path for the birds. 

Barely ten steps on his trek across the open field before Ignis caught his hand. “I’m sorry, Noct.”

“Let’s go do something fun, Specs.”

“Yes, yes. Let me take that bag.”

Noctis spotted Ignis’ selection in a bag of his own; “Did you get one?”

“I did,” Ignis smiled as he combined their purchases; “and I believe it will do just fine.”

Announcements interrupted the lighthearted music and noise of the crowd to announce that the races were about to begin. Champions from previous years’ events would go first, then the tracks would be reset for any newcomers looking to challenge. Noctis tugged Ignis down for a quick kiss while the attention of the crowd was turned to the racetrack. 

“Let’s go get a snack.”

“I thought you wanted to watch the race.”

“Next one. Let’s check out the stalls while everyone’s distracted.”


End file.
